


Pernicious Dreams.

by NyotaDragoni



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Flashbacks, Forgive me I'm rusty, Guilt, Heartache, I refuse to call it "Shatt", Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mairo, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Oneshot, Other, Post-Kerberos Mission, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Suicidal Thoughts, Testing the waters here.., Torture, slightly graphic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyotaDragoni/pseuds/NyotaDragoni
Summary: There's a little pain in knowing, for him, there's a lot of pain in surviving. Better days are gone, hope was always strong, but determination is what pulled it together. Now it's but a fickle thing, a farce at best when he was alone. What happens when he's alone? When he is forced to be the marionette to his thoughts?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme just make this first thing clear: It's been three years since I've written fanfiction. Please forgive any mistakes.
> 
> Also, if you'd like some music to go along with this && rather like metal: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sYTDSCDGcCM

#  _BREATHE_

You'd ~~think~~ his own mind and sleepless body would let him. Yet even so, he found himself thrashing in the confides of his quarters. Death could creep upon him and he'd be none the wiser for it at this moment. This grueling moment of absolute agony, of _remembrance._ To think him weak would be a fairly large mistake to make, to think him strong would be one as well. There were things he could not divulge and things he could not state were true to open ears. His heart hummed quickly, fiercely, in the confides of its freshly bruised cage. He could not define this pain, could not even think it pain, better yet-- he felt it was **Justified.**

Shiro could not begin to think himself anything but guilty, for many reasons he found his mind muddied and unclear. He couldn't define some clouds that sat among his thoughts, hazing his cognitive ability to freely remember certain aspects of his life. Of his imprisonment. So he thrashed about his bed, the cold and unfeeling metal that slammed against his side a reminder that he was no longer whole, and that perhaps he deserved it as _his_ features entered his subconscious imagery. Round eyes, wide with panic, shrunken pupils contracting and expanding in absolute horror for what lied ahead of him as he weakly begged for some escape. He'd tried, he'd tried so hard, to give him that escape. The copper strands flung in every direction, he remembered how each wild thread fell, as his back met the ground with him on top of Matthew Holt; screaming with false bravado and bloodthirsty words to hopefully save him.

If he wounded him-- If he wounded him, then they would send him off with his father. They would be together. He would sacrifice his heart, time and time again, if it meant they would never know the pain of blood being shed over flesh. He remembered telling him to protect his father. The way those citrine pools softened in realization. It hadn't stung that he initially thought him serious when he attacked him, what had stung, was the sight of him being pulled away as he could only smile seconds before his own departure into the alien hell they called the Arena. Ah but he remembered better times. He remembered times that hazed over every now and then, they only brought him more pain now. His ragged breaths seized time and time again as he found himself recalling those broken moments of forbidden thought, of formulated lies, of how a lie was never really a lie to them. Oh sweet Gods, he _**remembered.**_

#  _\-- Two years prior --_

Sacrilege is what he felt like he was committing sometimes. It was funny, thinking that way. To place Matt in such a position, to think him sacred, to think him absolutely above the par of normality. They would sneak moments, glances, unspoken conversations drifted along the open air for no one else but them to understand. Matt thought it was amusing, smiling at how Shiro would more often than not be caught staring by him. How many would curse their names over this if they knew? Surely, Matthew had admirers, as did Shirogane. Funny how he shuddered every time he heard his name, his first name, fall in hushed whispers of the night air as they watched the stars pass with every small rotation of the Earth. " _Takashi.._ " His heart would thunder in his chest, skip and frolic with damn near delight as he turned agate pools on him, smiling softly for what was to come.

" _Lie to me.._ " The softest of whispers fell from his lips and Shiro did not laugh but rather, he pulled him closer against him. Close like a binary star and their wondrous gravity for companionship. " **I love you, Matt..** " The lie was never a lie, but a lie to be told for their own sake. They couldn't risk it, the Garrison didn't look well upon relationships outside of marriage, admirers didn't think too highly of those who have 'stolen' the person of their admiration. That wasn't even thinking about the fact that Matt was a student when this whole thing started. They were only a year apart in age, but that mattered little to the board. An instructor shouldn't date a student, so they didn't date. They simply hung out. Amusing how that worked. With no declaration of it, nothing was a given. So he lied, time and time again, he lied.

Bodies, entangled in warmth and bliss, he could clearly see the stars from the window as they lay in a euphoria of their own making. Matt would tell him how his days have been, how he studiously worked, how he admired the pure science and vast span of the cosmos. And Shiro? Well, Shiro would smile and listen. His brown bangs often obscuring a part of his vision as he leaned forward, palm grasping his jaw with glee as he listened with vigor about everything Matt wanted to share. No, this blissful lie wouldn't last, but may the Gods have mercy on him because he was truly happy. He knew all too well the reality of things sometimes, how hard he'd worked, how much it took a toll on him at times; but here? Here in this room filled with mangled scents and fast paced breaths, he could find his mind and so clearly remember every line in his companion's features when they scrunched up in joy. Here he had no capacity for stress or worry. The lie lived on for a while. Even in the deepest reaches of Space, the crevice beyond where Humanity had traveled before, he continued to lie.

Instinct hit him full force that day, before the internal clock of the solar cycle went on, he was awake and lavishing Matt in adoration and glee. Listening to the findings, enjoying every second, because instinct reared its head and something foreboding latched onto the darkest crevice of his mind to warn him of what he could not place. Death would have been a blessing in some cases, but he wanted life, _**he wanted the lie to continue.**_

#  _\-- Present --_

Shiro amassed such a strong loathing of himself, such a vicious and cruel hatred towards every mistake he'd ever made. The scars were merely a story of failure in his eyes. He would see them and crumble a bit sometimes. Now, those eyes snapped wide with every ounce of fear and strife his entirety held. What should have been a happy dream, a moment of absolute fondness and bliss, was remembered with tears prickling his eyes and a scream that died on his gasping lips. For what of his own self? What of those moments in a disgusting cell where he felt he would rot for eternity? What of those seconds that ticked by before the initial day where he found himself in the arena, cradling Matthew close to him because they had so very luckily ended up in the same dank cell? The final chapter, the final conclusion to his "good" self and his "tragedy" was there, lying in the furthest reaches of his thoughts. His frame shot up, bowed over in pain as he grappled his face and tried not to scream for it to stop.

The images, the moment just before, the moment forgotten and remembered all at once. " _Please.. Please **Takashi..** Lie to me._ " Matt had said those words, a broken and mashed up tone all that was left due to fear and uncertainty. He had to be strong, he had to protect him, he had to find them a way out. Even if it meant leaving them, even if it meant for the lie to end, he had to save them. It died on his lips, didn't it? The words he wished to say, the same lie he would tell every day under a starlit sky when he would tell him how he brightly shone like the most brilliant of quasars. Unscripted, no one was watching, no one was listening, he pulled him closer to him and grasped his cheeks-- he noticed how sallow his skin was looking, how each line had become more defined with wear, how pained he looked. The lie ended. 

#  _" **I hate you, Matthew.** "_

_A new lie had begun._

It flashed before his unwilling eyes, the realization in honey orbs, the tears that welled up, the brief moment of hitched breaths before they came storming in and panic took over once more. Shiro struggled, and that's how it had ended up. A never ending struggle. Now he was here, a reality he could not deny, a fate he was told to accept. He had to present himself as a strong leader, as a force to be reckoned with, as the survivor and escapee, as someone undamaged. Keith had noticed it, that day on the training deck. No one else had seen it, could understand it, yet some how-- Yes _somehow,_ Keith noticed something was terribly wrong when he froze in place. Yet that didn't compare, it could never compare, to the moment he'd seen "Pidge." A young Katie Holt, he remembered her well, that photograph Matt kept on him at all times was always a tell. But what gave her away was not the image he'd seen but the resemblance. How Iverson hadn't noticed was beyond him, but the man had always been a daft fool in his opinion. She had looked strikingly like Matt--

_**And he was certain his heart shattered several ways that day.**_ His knees coiled against his chest after a moment of heavy breathing, remembering was going to kill him, if it did.. Well if it did then that would likely be better for him. Yes, he was hopelessly altruistic, hopelessly hopeful, a constant force to be reckoned with, but here in this small room on this small bed with the vast expanse of space laid out before him out the bay window.. Here he was tired. He was ragged, worn thin with nightmares and waking memories he couldn't quite recall, a visage of violet in violent hues that tore him apart. The sound of his bones shifting and cracking, of his flesh tearing, the scent of copper and the thick heft of metal weighing him down. Yes he remembered, but for this he wished he was dead. He wished, by some miracle, he could simply die. But he couldn't, so he simply thought it, simply willed it here.

His mind pulled at him, growled at him, reminded him of his promises and of his mangled heart. Of how every day he would break it just so they wouldn't have to get too close, just so he could take the burden on all by himself if he could. Of Matthew Holt, the one that he'd sacrificed everything for in an instant to protect him and Sam. (Yes he would always protect those he cared for, because he was a hopeless mess.) His frame bowed, body heavy with the dreams that should be happy, for they were why he was guilty. He'd let them down, let everyone down. If only he'd gotten them out in time, if only he'd fought harder. Now he knew he had the ability, and he stopped thinking of the many ways he could keel over in that instant. Because he had a quasar to be blinded by, a hopeful man to return home to his wife, a handful of friends to relinquish back to Earth, and a pair of aliens that required his help. He pulled himself out of bed, heading towards the ablution chamber to get cleaned up and hit the training deck.

He was there this time, this early, because he'd heard the screaming. His room was closest to his own, he knew. Yet, Keith never asked him, never pried; Shiro was thankful for that as they took on the Gladiator simulation. A violent method of release, of pulling himself out of the fog. "You're slow to start today, Shiro." The words came matter-of-factly as he looked over into those intense violet hues. Yes, Keith was far more brutal than others with his bluntness. He had no filter, it was somewhat of a relief, he didn't try to skirt around things. Really, Keith only decided what he would and wouldn't comment on and asked things when he was curious. "Of course I am, I had an awful night," the taller spoke with short breaths as he looked away. Smaller hands encapsulated his shoulders and he looked down at Keith, a sharp brow raised in question.

"I know. You never have a good night, I think its time you let yourself breathe.. Takashi." The name tasted odd in his mouth, he wasn't sure how he should get his point across but gods forbid he do it any less than bluntly. The man in front of him was as dense as they came when it came down to his own self worth and value. (It reminded him of something from a long time ago.) Shiro's features froze, brown eyes wide in slight shock at hearing his name. The last time he heard it, the last person who'd said it, _no one ever called him by his first name anymore, he'd almost forgotten what it sounded like from someone else._ Even in his own monologues, he referred to himself simply as 'Shiro.' In a single moment, it felt as if every aching moment had been stripped away, like the persona he'd manifested to remain of this world crumbled in that one second his name was heard. His jaw tightened, he felt his shoulders drop but didn't stop them this time as his head lowered as well.

" **I'm tired,** " the words were foreign to his own voice as he spoke them, his mangled and tattered visage apparent in an instant as he laid waste to his bitten soul to finally breathe a little better. "That's the first time someone's called me by my name in a long time. You surprised me a bit. I'm not alright, but I'm going to keep going. You know I'll keep going right?" A silent plead, a moment of reprieve, a second of hope. _Have faith in me,_ that plea came in silence as he watched those amethyst pools stare at him with an intensity he himself possessed. "I know. Just make sure you remember how to be alright eventually. You don't have to always be the guilty one." It hit him like a ton of bricks, that he didn't have to constantly bear the weight of his failures. Before he could clear the cloud over his thoughts, Keith was gone, and he was breathing again. He was going to lie again, his head tipping upwards as he looked at the ceiling as if to see through it straight to where _**he**_ was.

"I hate you, Matthew. I wont come for you."

_The lie tasted sweet in his mouth._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that ever subtle angst. I don't suspect I'll be writing fanfiction often, but if you have any requests or prompts, feel free to ask. I check this thing daily for updates on my favourite fics. ❤❤❤❤


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